


Mortality

by AutumnQuest



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Dark Magic, High Warlock of Alicante Magnus Bane, Hurt/Comfort, Immortality, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inquisitor Alec Lightwood, M/M, Mutilation, New York Shadowhunter Institute, Parabatai Bond, Vampire Alec Lightwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:28:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24738439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnQuest/pseuds/AutumnQuest
Summary: When Alec dies—and he will—he’d be free of any pain or grief, blissfully unaware. What would Magnus be like? Where would Magnus go? Stay in Idris? How quickly would he be able to collect himself and move on? Is it like getting another cup of coffee? Or peeling some fresher fruit?
Relationships: Magnus Bane & Alec Lightwood, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 43
Kudos: 78





	1. The Questioning pt.1

**Author's Note:**

> Special thank you to my Beta Reader - ToughPaperRound - [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToughPaperRound/) \- [Tumblr](https://toughpaperround.tumblr.com/)
> 
> The Archive Warnings are not necessary for the first arc (3 chapters) for those that need to know before starting. Tags will be updated when needs be. There is currently no schedule for updating this fic, the first arc is ready though. This is purely self-indulgent and mixed canon/non-canon etc-

The thought started at breakfast—or was it at lunch a few weeks ago? The little thought worming its way into his mind. Settling in nicely, blackening even his brightest days and the quietest hours of the night. Alec sat still with a spoon in hand, and a bowl of sun-withered fruit in front of him. He watched as the sides of an apple slice browned, the skin shrivelling. As Alec watched, he thought it rather quick. Too quick a death for fruit ripe in life. Obviously, he had sat staring at the bowl for far too long because Chairman aggressively purred by his hand. Swiping with exposed claws at the food, with evident impatience to see if Alec would cave and give him a sweet treat. Alec wasn’t hungry anymore, he flicked a small seedless piece to Chairman. Chairman seemed slightly disgusted by the measly amount considering what Alec had left for the summer flies. 

His head had that empty space feeling. Where you aren’t sure whether you are thinking or not, but you still function because you are thinking— _am I thinking or not?_ His head hurt, ached. He ran the water for the sink and again fell into an empty, silent stare. The water washing away into oblivion. Water was always present, always somewhere. Even in a desert, there would be an oasis, some cacti, a wisp of cloud hoarding its little liquid afraid to dissipate forever. Forever— _gone_. The thought chewed at him.

“Morning, Angel–” Magnus’ bare hand stroked the base of his back, hitting right where it tickled most. It made him surface, gasping for air while thinking, _I love those hands_. He quickly flipped off the tap, the water gone but ready to return. “What are your plans, today, Inquisitor?”

Alec swirled the bowl around and around in the water watching it float, the juices from the fruit turning the water murky, filthy. Old, tepid. Alec looked at him with confusion, expectant for a question.

“Alexander, what are your plans for the day?” Magnus enunciated each word carefully with a playful smirk. He then popped his hand once, and a takeaway cup from The Hidden Gem appeared. The whiff of dark, dry roast, a proper New Yorker coffee, filled the kitchen. Idris was great but not that great. Alec gave the offending cup a stare wagging his eyebrows at the not-innocent-enough Warlock. They had spoken at length about his coffee thefts, “I was wondering if you’d like to grab lunch together today? I’m not that busy at the moment since the Wards have been strengthened by my _magnificent_ expertise.”

“That’ll be nice.” He knew he was falling victim to the infamous side-eye. Magnus could make his eyes physically touch him. It worked in both beautiful and cruel ways, it managed to drag truths out of him and sounds he thought ridiculous while in bed. “I’m tired.” He belatedly added, blinking a couple of times rapidly as if to further imply it.

“Early night then, my Angel.” Magnus winked, leaving Alec with the still dirty bowl and the now old _and_ cold water.

-

The mood continued through the morning as it had all week—this time, it was his poor excuse for an Alicante _coffee_ that triggered the fathomless stare, and the empty space in his head. It had gone cold so quickly, over in a forgotten-too-soon moment in time. Alec sat at his desk, staring at his hands. When had they gotten so wrinkled? So worn? So aged? He rubbed them together as if a rush of blood would plump the wrinkles and induce youth.

Aline entered the office. From head to toe immaculate in black with a splash of jade around her neck, a fay gift from Helen. She could sense his mood a mile away, and the foresight had made her bring a new coffee—easily replaceable. His mood not only filled the office with a quiet storm but the entire top floor of the Inquisitor's building. His staff below warned her that he had been like this for over a week. In a constant state of mindless work. In a stifling silent stillness. Seemingly fascinated with his hands and angry at mirrors.

“Morning, Alec, what’s up?” she perched on his desk, a little away from him so he could breathe. Once Alec had moved to Idris, Aline had grown closer to him with ease. She realised early on that the nervousness of Alec’s youth had turned into a self-protective nature as an adult. He only opened up if you gave him plenty of mental and physical space. “You look blank. Blank and rather distant, are we missing Brooklyn?”

“I’m old.”

Aline laughed. Her heel tapped the floor with the force of her laugh, a sharp falsetto against the stone. But when he neither laughed back nor looked up from his handsome hands, she stopped short. “What? Don’t be silly, you’re 24.”

“Look at my hands.” He held them before her face, he held them like they offended him. As if he could get them further away from himself or disconnect from them altogether. She delicately took them, afraid he might crack. He flinched like it burnt him, like her hands could wear his down. She inspected them thoroughly as any friend would and declared with a conviction that other than his palm lines, his hands were very handsome.

“You actually have attractive hands, Alec. I mean—how one has attractive or ugly hands I don’t know, but yours look smooth like they could be in a ring catalogue, which I’m sure pleases a certain _someone_.” She held his hand between hers, rubbing little circles into his wrist. His pulse was steady; she was glad to feel. “What is this about?”

“I’m ageing.” Alec’s dejected voice worried her, he had never cared about such vain things before.

She was about to state that a certain Warlock with many rings wouldn’t care a stitch about it when it made sense. She tensed on uncertain ground. Every Shadowhunter in Idris envied Magnus and Alec’s relationship, herself and Helen practically worshipped it. However, she had always been thankful that Helen was only half fay. Magnus was a tragedy counting down, and Alec had seemingly realised he was the timer. “Oh, Alec–”

A single tear escaped his lashes, brushing his pale cheek. Despair seemed to wash over him anew as he realised that she had cottoned on to his thoughts so quickly. _Had everyone else seen the ending that was coming, before him?_

“Why are you thinking about this?” Aline asked carefully, “it’s out of your control.”

She didn’t expect him to reply. Alec didn’t expect himself to respond either, but he did. He took a startled breath and pushed on, “–I’m going to die, Aline. I'm going to die. Magnus will be left alone. It’s foolish, stupid even, but its only just hit me.”

Alec looked up from his free hand, he was surprised to see tears in Aline’s eyes. He stood at once and hugged her, ashamed to make her feel his anguish whispering into her hair that he was sorry.

“Don’t be silly! Don’t be sorry, it’s just sad.” She and Helen had conversations about this themselves, Helen would age slower. Still, her Nephilim side would also make it even out the more she used her runes, so they had no fear of losing each other and being distanced by time. “I’m sure Magnus doesn’t view it like that Alec. He probably hasn’t thought of it.”

“Now who’s being silly, he obviously has. How many times has he thought about it? Every birthday celebration? Every anniversary? And I was—what? Being blissfully ignorant.”

Alec knew it in his gut too. From the beginning of their relationship, Magnus would have—consciously or not—have realised what he was getting himself into and how it would end. Magnus had put himself on the line in front of a firing squad blindfolded to fate. Waiting. And he had said nothing about it. Not grumbled or moaned but put everything into what time was available without making Alec feel like he was the one with the loaded gun.

“What even made you start thinking of this, Alec? You’ve barely mentioned his immortality before?” She hesitated, and tentatively added in a whisper, “it was always going to be an issue.”

“I know! I’m not sure,” Alec sat back down, Aline took the seat opposite him pushing his warm coffee towards him. He wrapped his cold hands around it, flinching at the heat. She kept note of how jumpy he was and paid attention to his eyes which always gave more away. “I just—it’s like a veil has lifted and I can’t get it out of my head now. I’m going to cause him pain that I know I couldn’t bear myself. There’s nothing I can do to stop it either.” He stopped to catch himself from revealing too much. His eyes scanned her face, and Aline recognised the fathomless distance that came with far too many nights pondering the same subject. “There is nothing I can do. I’ll be another blip in his timeline.”

“Apart from immortality.” It quietly slipped past her lips before she could stop herself because it was an option, whether he said it out loud or not.

Alec looked at her sharply, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of immortality, how could you not with an immortal boyfriend? It had a rather stupidly naive romance about it, together for _literally_ ever. That romanticism was partly to blame for him not giving it serious thought when he was younger, because, of course, he’d live forever! Forever being the average age. But he hadn’t thought of the opposite. Perhaps, it was his subconscious protecting him. Maybe it was naive youth saying he and Magnus would be forever regardless of all the evidence. But with age comes wisdom. With struggle, comes strength. They had been at relative peace for the last few months, with nothing to occupy his mind apart from his relationship with Magnus. Which at first hadn’t bothered him at all until he looked in the mirror one day and felt his face was different. The honeymoon phase of their relationship, as gloriously neverending as it seemed, had ended.

Magnus was his world. The more they woke beside each other, the more he loved him. The more they bickered or argued, the more Alec wanted to fight for him. The more they cried together, ate together, slept together—the more he knew Magnus was his world. When Alec dies—and he will—he’d be free of any pain or grief, blissfully unaware. What would Magnus be like? Where would Magnus go? Stay in Idris? How quickly would he be able to collect himself and move on? Is it like getting another cup of coffee? Or peeling some fresher fruit?

Now the door was open. Alec couldn’t close it. All he thought about was how he was going to leave Magnus in a way he had no power to stop. Alec unconsciously clutched at Aline, who rubbed small circles into his back, but Alec felt cold and distant. He was drowning.


	2. The Questioning pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those shoes were kept from the 50s. Magnus’ feet will never change. Alec’s parents weren’t even born yet. Before he could control himself, Alec blurted out that he was old and getting older and he couldn’t stop it. He managed, barely, to not mention death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thank you to my Beta Reader - ToughPaperRound - [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToughPaperRound/) \- [Tumblr](https://toughpaperround.tumblr.com/)

Magnus chose the balcony seat at the Pizzeria. It was slightly hidden, bathed in enough sunlight to be warm but not blistering for his fair lover. Rustic in feel and elegant. It felt like Italy. He sat waiting for Alec to arrive, the Inquisitor was known for being a stickler for time. Still, Magnus by default seemed to always arrive first. As if Alec knew his boyfriend could wait, work was more important. He sighed, tapping the balcony railing, at least he had Alec all to himself in the evenings—especially at night, he’ll forgive him.

Magnus’ day had been very productive, he had dabbled here and there and completed a fair amount of his to-do list. He had smiled and waved at every Shadowhunter that passed by his doors as custom dictated. Because he, as the foreign invader, had to keep the peace, if only for Alec’s sake. The one thing this peaceful workday had solidified, was his desire to convince Alec that they should move back to Brooklyn. He could place a dimensional door in their hallway and be free of this pretentious hell-hole. He’d be able to pop in on Cat or, even goddamn, Ragnor. He’d be able to sit at The Hidden Gem, and not steal coffee from them. Therefore, solving Alec's issue with his mini-thefts. He’d be able to have a scowl on his face, and not flash a smile every five-seconds to seem non-threatening.

When the Shadowhunter appeared, his face was sullen. His eyes wandering everywhere around the restaurant, each booth, each nook, each bland landscape frame, anywhere but him. His shoulders tightly hunched, his arms locked to his sides. Magnus was reminded of an 18-year-old Alec again and he filled with a need to shelter him. A need to make him feel proud, accepted and overall, loved. A need to take him away from Idris, where the social system was a good century behind. “What has happened?”

Alec looked at him, shocked— _did the poor boy think he was hiding his face?_ “Nothing.”

The Warlock gave him the signature _you’re a liar_ look. Alec hated seeing it directed towards himself, it was sharp and pointed, and made people wilt under the pressure. Alec smiled his best smile, the smile he knew would always win but apparently, he couldn’t even fake that. Magnus’ head tilt-only got more pronounced, his eyebrows arching in dramatic disapproval. “What’s wrong, Alexander?”

He took the opposite seat, glad that Magnus always felt the need for privacy in Idris and again pleaded innocence, this time more animated. Magnus conceded, presumably thinking it was not the environment for the conversation. The Warlock started reeling off his slow day. How he had managed to clean the entire Warlock Kitchen and his office. Magnus’ amused tone held a hint of mockery that Alec had detected a lot frequently. He reeled off more humdrum tasks that seemed to sap the glow from his eyes. A spark flashed in Magnus again, Alec’s lips twitched in response, he had found a priceless mask he thought he lost.

“The Nepalese one? Do you remember it? I brought it back home to put up on the wall. Oh, and I found Clary and Jace’s wedding invite. Who knew I was sentimental enough to keep such a frivolous thing?”

Magnus’ frivolous sentiment rang in Alec’s head. Magnus didn’t want to get married, he said it was a document that he did not require because he was pagan. He had winked at the time and said, _I'll perform a handfasting on you another time._ If they married, Alec thought, he would be a widower, so perhaps that was more the reason? How many times could he marry before the world realised that Magnus Bane was married ten times, in several different centuries?

“I thought for dinner we could go back to New York? I have to pop in on Catarina anyway, and you can see Jace.” Magnus continued on undeterred by Alec’s blank look. He was tired, Magnus told himself, and something had obviously happened at the office. He pushed the New York visit further, wistfully reminiscing out loud about their first date, “We should go play pool!”

Alec had thought of marriage. He had dreamt of Magnus in some extravagant suit, but he was more concerned with the finer details, like not having a tie and Magnus’ top buttons being open. His sleeves being rolled up and casual. No rings on his fingers, except the one that Alec would give him. That dream now seemed pointless and shattered on the floor. He had believed he could convince Magnus to marry him. He had believed he was different from all the others before him. He had believed they were forever, despite the glaringly obvious nature of humans.

“Are you two ready to order?”

They were both silent, Alec looked up at Magnus who was blank-faced staring back at him. Magnus spoke first. “I’ll have the house special calzone please, sweet-pea.” The waiter blushed at Magnus, averting her eyes from Alec, who wasn’t looking anyway.

“The carbonara please.” Alec’s voice was flat, he was staring at her shoes. Magnus looked and was not shocked to see the funeral-ish fashion of the Shadowhunters—black.

“Is it edge goth, or is it just an easy washing excuse?”

Alec finally looked up and took in Magnus’ attire. He was eccentric today, but as always it worked. A pale grey waistcoat with copper chain from pocket to pocket. The copper chain matching his copper watch, and his titanium and brass rings which set his skin off with a wonderful glow. His shirt was billow sleeved and tie-dyed burnished reds, washed out enough that it wasn’t overpowering. And his pale grey, skinny fit trousers were rolled up to show his ankle bracelet that Alec got him for Christmas last year. Over some very stylish and comfortably worn but well-kept 50s winkle pickers. It was eccentric, it was too much for most to carry off, but Magnus as always held it together.

“You’ve blanked out twice now, Alexander.”

Those shoes were kept from the 50s. Magnus’ feet will never change. Alec’s parents weren’t even born yet. Before he could control himself, Alec blurted out that he was old and getting older and he couldn’t stop it. He managed, barely, to not mention death.

Magnus’ face betrayed him. His Warlock mark briefly flashing. He began fidgeting, which wasn’t his custom, and he sat back in the chair as if to back away from Alec. Which stung Alec, as Magnus had always desperately tried to have no space between them. To the point that you could call it obscene in some circumstances. _He has obviously thought of it too_ ran through Alec’s head, over and over, getting louder and louder. Before Magnus could speak the girl was back with their food, she placed it down. Evidently, she sensed a change in the air because she quietly offered condiments and expressed a wish for them to have a good meal, before briskly walking away.

Magnus looked at his calzone, watching the steam rise from the little fork holes. He thought that they desperately needed to leave Idris, before saying in a too chirpy voice, “you’re not old Alexander—old is 400 years.”

For once, Alec believed Magnus gave his correct age over. He knew it was around 400 after cataloguing all of Magnus’ numerous, and ludicrous, responses. But the revelation wasn’t enough to stop the train. “I’ll never see 400 years.”

Cold water might have been thrown down Magnus’ back, he went rigid, knife hovering over the chilling food. His Mark appearing again but unable to disappear, his eyes flashed several times, but Magnus seemingly could not control it. Then unexpectedly, the jug of ice water was passed to Alec and dropped down his back as Camille passed Magnus’ lips, and he asked whether she had spoken to him?

“No.” Alec snapped as he dropped his cutlery to the table. He hated the Vampire. He snatched his fork back up, snagging the table cloth and stabbed his pasta, swirling it around to cool it down. Alec didn’t hate Camille for her time with Magnus, because that was long gone and didn’t even concern him. Plus he wasn’t a thought back then, neither were his parents. Those shoes weren’t even Magnus’ when they were a thing. But he hated her for her insistent involvement in their relationship. She wore jealousy like cheap perfume. He wanted to protect Magnus from the hurt that woman brought him. He understood why Magnus would think she was involved in this as she had stirred the pot before, Magnus always grew wary when Camille was around. She was currently only a borderline away from Idris. Alec had thought the move to Idris would end the mention of that Vampire. “No, I haven’t. It’s—it is only a fact.”

“Angel—don’t think of it. It’s human.” He cut his calzone clearly trying to stop the conversation with food.

“To die.” Alec dropped his fork again, it bounced off the table and clattered to the floor, stunned he had actually said it. He desperately wanted to take it back, feeling like he was opening something that would never shut. In essence, Pandora’s Box was opened, and he was the fool.

Magnus had only ever lost control of himself in front of Alec three times. Once was dealing with Camille who had started to send Alec old love letters that were between the two immortals. If anything, Alec found them romantic and insisted Magnus start writing to him. Insisting they had to be handwritten and sent to him through the post too. Magnus had gone the extra mile and got an actual bird to deliver it, Chairman was not amused that day. The second was when Asmodeus had interfered with their relationship, insisting on breaking them up for the return of Magnus’ magic. The third was when a client of his had attempted to steal from his Warlock Kitchen back in Brooklyn, which has never happened since, because no idiot was suicidal enough.

None were ever due to him, even in Alec’s early internally homophobic stage, he never lost control at his sometimes hurtful, hideous remarks. But, when the word ‘die’ passed his lips, the glass in Magnus’ hand shattered into glittering dust. By the force of his hand and a sudden snap of uncontrolled magic. The crack was sharp and quick, the magic hissed off of the glass dust. All the other patrons of the restaurant sharply taking a breath, all turned to look. Magnus stood—his hand coated in the crystal glass, small dots of red appeared like a needle prick of a spindle repeatedly jabbed over his soft hand, and he walked out. Alec sat stunned and hurt with his fingers digging into his forearm.


	3. The Questioning pt.3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I mourn, I grieve, I take however long I need to get back to feeling again.” - Magnus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thank you to my Beta Reader - ToughPaperRound - [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToughPaperRound/) \- [Tumblr](https://toughpaperround.tumblr.com/)

Alicante wasn’t huge. Its streets were narrow, winding and compact; picturesque like an expensive postcard brought on a luxury holiday. If only they had the tourists to see it. But the thing with cobbled streets was it felt like forever before you made it anywhere compared with a straight path. Cobbles were seemingly made with no other purposes than to make you walk slower. Made to trick your brain into thinking it was on holiday, despite it being your goddamn motherland. A slow, hazy, holiday in an endless summer, a summer that had quickly shifted to dead winter. The move had been perfect, Alec could see a peaceful, content future in Idris. Now he saw nothing but stupid cobblestones and too close walls and too many Nephilim.

Alec took the twists and turns as quickly as the crowd would let him, as quick as he thought the Inquisitor should be rushing the streets with bloodshot eyes. Magnus had used a portal the waitress had said, which was _illegal in Alicante_ she had stage whispered. The restaurant was silent up until Alec had left. He knew they were all talking about the Shadowhunter and the Downworlder. How they publicly argued once will be all they remembered for years to come and will be how they sullied their relationship, justifying their prejudice. _Tut-tut a Downworlder can’t mix with a Shadowhunter_. Or a mortal with an immortal would be more appropriate. Alec’s eyes stung from painfully rubbing them, refusing to let the Nephilim in the streets see him cry.

He took the stairs to their loft two at a time, but once he reached the door, he hesitated. Never— _ever_ —had he hesitated to enter his home before. His hand rested on the doorknob, the sun blindingly reflecting off the Marvellous Magnus Bane plaque. _How old was that plaque?_ The door swung open, snatched from Alec’s loose grip, Magnus stood in the centre of the loft with tears on his cheeks.

“Why on Earth would you talk of your death?” Magnus rubbed at his eyes, smearing his makeup, “What possessed you to think of it?”

Chairman sped across the floor to hide under the low table at Magnus’ feet, his little eyes unblinkingly watching Alec in the doorway as if he were a hostile invader. Chairman was a funny creature who shunned Magnus most of the time, but once the Warlock was in any distress, the cat closed ranks and became as feral as a dog to protect him. Alec was hurt to have hurt the pink cat too.

“What happens to you when I die?” Alec urged on regardless. The box was gone, the door was open, why stop now? The walls were gone from his comfortable blind delusion that they were equal. All those times when he questioned Magnus about it came back to him, and he realised that Magnus had always eased him talentedly away from the topic. But he wasn’t a kid anymore, he won’t be ushered off the issue.

“I mourn, I grieve, I take however long I need to get back to feeling again.”

“How long will that take?”

Magnus looked at him, aghast, “I don’t know, Alexander, how long is a piece of string?”

Alec shut the door, choosing to lean against the wall for support. He looked to his hands again and remembered Magnus’.

“Are you bleeding?” he made to go to the medical cabinet that neither of them really needed but enjoyed having for mundane purposes. If Alec was being honest, it was a ruse to derail the conversation, an attempt to put everything back in its comfortable place to stall a little longer. He shook himself out of it.

Magnus raised his red hand, it was thankfully dry. He took a few steps towards Alec, waving his hands to clear his makeup completely off his blanched face, his eyes bright like Chairman’s. Chairman hissed his disapproval at Magnus, getting closer to Alec. “Alexander, please explain to me what is happening.”

Alec rubbed his back on the wall, rocking himself while rubbing vigorously at his cheeks. His eyes felt heavy, his mouth dry. “Perhaps I’m old enough now to realise something I chose to ignore at 18. I’m going to die. I’m going to hurt you, and I can’t stop it.”

The Warlock patiently stared at him waiting for something more, maybe he was waiting for a _this is all because of—_ but nothing came, there was no one to blame for this. This was all Alec.

“Alexander, my love, that’s inevitable in a relationship like ours. It’s a sad reality, but we can’t let that stop our life.”

He sniffled, dabbing his nose with his sleeve and said what his mind had come too in the last couple of weeks—“I can’t fathom hurting you like that. I can’t fathom waking up to you for another 60-70 years and then clocking out.” He snapped his fingers, tears clung to his lashes, “you will always be the man I fell in love with at 18, you will always be your 24-year-old self. Will you love me when I’m 50?”

“Of course.” He didn’t pause to say it—it was absolute.

“But will you love me and want me, the way that I will always love and want you?” Alec stepped to the side, away from Magnus. “Please don’t lie to me because I understand the rules of attraction, I’m not a closeted and naive 18-year-old. Will you be attracted to me at 50? See me as I will always see you.”

The Warlock couldn’t say anything. He stood looking at Alec, taking every inch of him in. He calmed enough to glamour his eyes which only hurt Alec more, because that Mark was the clear difference between them whether Magnus hid it or not. Those eyes will watch Alec age and wither. Alec’s eyes will watch Magnus always be the Warlock who winked at him and said call me?

“Your silence is the answer, Magnus.” He ripped his jumper off slinging it to the sofa, he was hot and bothered. He didn’t know where to place himself and how to stop himself from ripping the binding off any further. “I’m not mad at that because that makes sense. You’re only attracted to what you’re attracted to, that can’t be changed.” He laughed at the most straightforward truth of attraction, people aren’t attracted to everything. So, how can an immortal be any different? “I get that. But–when I’m 50. You’ll look as you look now and always will. So—at 50 I’m still going to be madly attracted to you, in love with you, I’ll still _need_ you. But at some point, whether it’s another 10 or 20 years, you won’t want me like that anymore.”

“I’ll always love you.”

“No—it’ll change because it won’t be the love we have now while I’m your Angel.” Alec sat down, dropping his face into his hands, he spoke to the floor because it was easier. “I’ll admit this is a new thing that has been playing on my mind so perhaps I won’t make sense. I don't make sense, but Magnus, please understand. I can’t imagine being with you at 50 because I don’t want to see you look at me with-be with me for—for pity.”

“Pity?”

“Pity because I’ll die, sympathy because I’ve given my one life to you. Our life together is a snapshot. The more I think of it, the more it hurts. I have no doubt that you will love me forever—I will love you forever—but that love will alter. Mine won’t—this is my only life. Magnus if I keep waking up beside you for another 10-20 years, I will just love you more and more—” his voice broke for the first time in years; tears dropping to the floor between his feet. “I think you will love me more and more too. Which means in the end, you’ll be hurt the most because I won’t be around to feel anything.” He finally looked up. Magnus sat opposite him with his face as expressionless as his mask collection, tears streaking his immortal cheeks. “How much longer do we have before that happens?” Alec finally asked.

Magnus sat back, taking a scatter cushion and hugging it to his chest. He pushed his face into it, not too gently as if to stop his tears. “It’s your life, Alec.”

“That’s the point too! You always say that!” he shouted, covering his mouth to silence himself, “it’s my life, but this is your life too. Can you bear the idea of being with me for my life—when I die, what then?”

“That’s for me to be concerned with.” Magnus’ fingers ripped the pillowcase a little, snagging the fabric on his rings as he held on to what was breaking before him.

“And _me_ —it concerns me because I love you.”

Magnus looked away, unable to meet his eyes. Alec smiled, sickly triumphant, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You are different from the others, Alexander, yes.”

“So, what will it be like when I’m gone?”

He seemed to stall, finally looking Alec in the eye, “I’m not sure. But I’m sure it won’t be pretty. I’ve never wanted to spend an entire lifetime with a mortal before.” The Warlock confessed. It seemed to tear at him to admit that Alec was on a line of thought that he had avoided himself.

“But will you want to spend an entire lifetime with me as I want too?”

“Attraction changes, yes, Alexander.” He sobbed. Magnus wasn’t a lying man. He had envisioned Alec grey—a silver fox, and he found the idea attractive, but had he ever been in a relationship with someone in their late 30s or above, in 400 years? No. He was forever stuck in his mid-twenties and found it hard to be attracted in the way Alec meant to someone 10 years older. He knew he would love Alec, and Alec would be one of his proudest, fondest, hardest memories to carry. Still, that physical attraction had a limit not even Magnus had the ability to stop. Alexander, however, would always be both physically and emotionally attracted to him because he would never change. So, yes, soon, a point will come where their relationship can no longer be balanced.

“Exactly, how long do we have?”

“How do you expect me to answer that?” Magnus was agitated, twisting the ring on his thumb trying to get the fabric of the ruined pillow off its gemstone and fiddling with his watch. “How can I answer that without hanging an axe over our relationship? What do you want me to say, Alexander? Do you want a deadline? Because if that’s the case, I won’t give one. Once I do that, every day will be a countdown not just for you but for me, our relationship will be altered drastically. It already is—”

Alexander tucked his feet up under himself, holding his forearms. “I’m sorry.” He meant it. If he could go back and somehow foresee this worm in his mind, he’d avoid it. Perhaps moving to peaceful Idris and taking the Inquisitor job was a mistake, the hustle and bustle of the city may have prolonged this.

“Don’t be.” Magnus comforted, “this conversation is inevitable too. It’s an unavoidable realisation that I was waiting for since I met you. I’ll be honest, most of my relationships with mortals I put a timer on. 7-10 years normally. It depends when we meet as well. Usually, when my lover hits 30, I’ll leave because for a mundane that’s still a good age to find love, get married, have kids. It hurts, but it works well for both parties because I don’t have to see them change and suffer old age.” Magnus moved off the sofa tentatively, taking a seat next to Alec but not touching him. “I’ll confess I haven’t thought about that with us. You are different from them, Alexander. I went in headfirst and didn’t think of the long run, and I still haven’t until now.” He looked gloomy as Chairman perched in his lap reassuring him and taking his guard between the pair. “I meant it when I said always. But I’m no fool—I know the curse of man is mortality. I still deluded myself and haven’t made a wall against this moment. You and I have been so in tune, so glued together. I can’t think of it,” he whined, his voice breaking, “Alec, don’t ask me to think of this yet, please.”

“If you can’t think of it now then it’ll be unbearable then.”

“I know.” Magnus hugged Chairman who seemed confused now in who needed the most comforting. “What do you want to do? You’re right, it’s my life too, but I have more time to adapt. I’ll be with you Alec till the very end, romantic or otherwise. Still, if you can’t bear that, then I’d rather not drag this out longer. You mean the world to me, Alexander Gideon Lightwood, I won’t move on while you are alive and I’ll doubt it’ll be quick once you’re gone. But the decision is yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of first arc; thank you for reading, leaving comments and kudos so far! 
> 
> The whole fic is written (so please don't worry about it ending here!), but I still want to alter a lot and get it Beta Read etc- before posting. As I said, this is a very self-indulgent fic, there isn't any schedule, but, hopefully, it won't be too long before I post the second arc. Thank you again.


	4. The Breaking Point pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jace, to his great surprise, had resisted the topic all evening. When they went out to dine; when they had a quick scout around the park; when Max insisted on showing them all his new fighting moves. Jace, for once, was being tactful. “Anyway, Magnus?” Jace blurted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thank you to my Beta Reader - ToughPaperRound - [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToughPaperRound/) \- [Tumblr](https://toughpaperround.tumblr.com/)

Alec lay in bed—cold. No matter which way he slept: in the middle, on the left, on the right, at an angle, he could not find comfort. The room was merely cold, frosted over and frozen in a shattered moment in time. Painfully empty, devoid of the love and warmth. Magnus had left instantly, no grand exit, no display. It didn’t matter how much he tried to remember happier times, Magnus’ face, when Alec said he could not do it anymore, was all that drifted to mind. Magnus’ cat eyes dull and empty. His lips parted on a breathless word, his hands shockingly still in Chairman’s fur. Magnus said nothing, he nodded and simply left.

Whatever had possessed Alec to admit that he was too weak to wake up to Magnus each morning, knowing that he was the one that would hurt him in the end. He’ll never know. But it was the painful truth, he couldn’t do it. Watch his Warlock peacefully sleep beside him, knowing at some point that that sleep will be disturbed with what he was wrecked with now—an empty bed.

His phone rang persistently again. It was the seventh call that day, three more than the previous. It was Jace. He wasn’t prepared for another conversation with the _All-Knowing_ _Jace_. The _All-Knowing Jace_ that could—and will—grow old with an also ageing Clary. He answered but said nothing, waiting for Jace’s voice to wash over him and calm him a little.

“Clary quiet–” Jace paused, Clary went silent in the background. “Alec, I’m not going to talk to you about— _Him_ , but I am going to ask you to come to New York. We have an issue and by issue, I mean 23 mundane deaths by Vampires, Werewolves and Fay, presumably some rogue gang. Isabelle is on the Angel Fire case. Clary is galivanting with Simon.” Clary incoherently argued in the background. But Alec was sharp enough to catch that she was telling him in fewer words to stop making her his convenient lies. “I need my parabatai to help me.”

Alec lay in the bed staring at the star draped canopy, Jace didn’t talk, he didn’t hang up either. His steady breathing came in calming waves over the phone. He was there and patiently waiting. He knew it was a lame excuse to get him home for a bit. In the last 3 weeks, he had done so much work he had no work to do anymore. Even the Consul had told him to lay off a bit. Aline and Helen must have called in on the New York Institute and told them he was a mad man on the brink. At least in the last 3 weeks, his work percentage was perfect, and therefore Alec had earned all his bonuses this month. He technically didn’t need to work for a week because he was on top, and above, of it all.

Alec looked to his phone, 40 minutes had passed, and Jace was still sat on the other end, phone to ear waiting. Alec felt a broken sob rise but told him he’ll get a portal tomorrow before hanging up.

-

The New York Institute was new to him after 3 years in Idris. For whatever reason, the idyllic Idris and the drab New York institute had switched roles. New York had a golden glow about it. The one Magnus used to cry about when he was annoyed with Idris. Alec was sure that light wasn’t there beforehand, he knew it was his memory playing on him and perhaps a vicious corner of his mind trying to hurt him. In reality, it was grubby, it was in desperate need of an overhaul, but for whatever reason, his eyes refused to acknowledge that and only chose to reminisce and gloss over everything.

The relationship between Clary and himself had advanced since they didn’t live under each other’s feet, evident when she carelessly threw herself at him once he crossed the threshold. Wiggling her tiny waist shaking his shoulders in her arms, giving him a vigorous hug. Her stele stabbing his leg. Jace loudly tutted and forcefully, but carefully, removed her. He waved her aside with a shooing motion of disgust stating that if anyone is to hug Alec first, it shall rightfully be his parabatai, _mundane_ Shadowhunter. Clary laughed and punched his shoulder as Jace pulled Alec into a tight embrace. Jace’s cheek rested on his as he whispered into Alec’s ear. “I’ve missed you, brother.” He held him tighter, and Alec fell into it some more.

At some point Clary walked away, leaving them alone in the foyer, she had knocked the catch on the door to shut them in. Alec knew the hug was going on too long. But, he didn’t want Jace to see him crying. Which he knew was absurd because Jace was still holding on as tightly as before with seemingly no issue in not letting him go. Jace would hold him till he stopped.

“You can tell me everything later or when you’re ready or not at all, Alec. Just tell me what you want.”

“I don’t want to sleep alone.”

“You won’t then.”

Isabelle came in, her perfume never changing, and his sixth sibling sense pulling him back. He pulled away from Jace but only to pull Isabelle into a three-way hug. His head resting on her steady shoulder. She stroked his hair and told him quietly that Clary will room with her while he was here. “No problem, big bro, we’ve missed you. New York isn’t the same, I bet Idris is boring without us too?” she pulled away to look at him, smiling their mother's smile.

Two years had only made Isabelle more mature and motherly. She was affectionally known in the Institute as everyone’s mother because she worried over them all and painfully cooked once a week for them but thankfully, she let Clary help. She ran the Institute with an iron grip, though, and punished accordingly, so she really was—though he would never say it—their mother.

Max ran in and punched him on the arm—“alright, twerp!”

Alec looked at him, gobsmacked, “Excuse me, squirt? What?”

“Oh—this one has a whole attitude issue now.” Isabelle flicked his ear, “Thinks he’s a big shot Shadowhunter.”

“What are you talking about he is a big shot Shadowhunter!” Jace accused, fist-bumping Max with a playful smirk.

Alec pointed to Jace, “It’s you isn’t it, you’re an influence.”

“No!”

“That wasn’t a question Jace, it was a statement of fact.” Alec picked his bag back up, but Max snatched it while running off.

“Let’s get you in. Max—Jace’s room!” she shouted after him. Jace wrapped his arm around Alec’s shoulders, pulling him into the Institute gleefully telling him of the 23 murders like it was just another Monday.

-

They both sat on Jace’s king-sized bed—Alec remembered the day his brother had insisted he needed a king-sized bed at 13 for his small self. Now, however, it was perfect. Jace sprawled out on the bed, his head on his pillow, legs at odd angles rubbing his belly because he overate at the Jade Wolf. Alec sat cross legged with Clary’s pillow in his lap. It was a stiflingly hot night, so they both had their shirts off which started the ever-competitive who had the most marks challenge. Jace won because he was more active in the field. But Alec had a few marks that Jace will never have, being the Inquisitor.

The windows were wide open which did little good for airflow, but pulled the sounds of the city in and the ever-present smell of fuel, cigarettes and coffee. Alec started pulling at the tassels on Clary’s pillow, he knew their conversation was drying up, and Jace hadn’t yet asked about him and Magnus. Jace, to his great surprise, had resisted the topic all evening. When they went out to dine; when they had a quick scout around the park; when Max insisted on showing them all his new fighting moves (that really Alec was pleased to see because he had missed so much). Jace, for once, was being tactful. Clary was obviously a good influence but not enough to curb his bad influence on Max.

“Anyway, Magnus?” Jace blurted, grabbing Clary’s second pillow to protect himself, “Don’t hit me or cry on me!”

Alec knew he could bawl his eyes out, and Jace would hold his hand, and if he cried enough, Jace would end up crying with him.

“You told me on the phone,” Jace sat up, this was too vital a question to lie down on. “That you just couldn’t wrap your head around it. But you never said what _it_ was?”

“It—is dying.” Jace clutched his side where his parabatai rune rested as if it stung him. “Jace, I’m going to die one day, old and grey. Magnus will be his perfect self, the same as the day I first saw him, and when I die, he’ll be left behind. Alone.”

Jace looked uncomfortable like he didn’t want to say what he was thinking, but they had shared countless things together. Hence, his parabatai said it in a rush instead, “He’s immortal—he’s used to that.”

It was insensitive, it was harsh, but he wasn’t wrong. In shorter words, that was what Magnus meant himself, _he would deal with it._

“Let me put it this way—I know it’s not the same because the circumstances are different, so let me make it harsher.” Alec threw the pillow to the top of the bed, far too hot all of a sudden, his feet and hands tingling. “You’ve been with Clary now 7 years, think of another 7, waking with her every day, seeing her smile and laugh. Seeing her cry, seeing her angry at you but always forgiving. Hearing her voice, sitting in her silence, comfortable and at home. Then she’s gone. Forever. What would that do to you?”

“It would kill me,” was Jace’s quickfire response.

“I’m Clary, you’re Magnus. But Magnus isn’t going to die, that pain won’t end.” Alec ran a hand through his hair, sticking to the sweat on his forehead. “Well, it will at some point, but those memories of me will hurt him forever.”

“And you couldn’t bear putting him through that?”

“No. Could you do it to Clary?”

“But Alec—you’ve hurt him now, and you’re alive.” Jace shifted on the bed as if he was organising his mind for an _All-Knowing_ _Jace_ speech. “He could be with you for another 70-80 years making precious memories with you. But you’ve decided to let it all go. He’s out there. He knows you are out there too but unreachable. Not through death but because you’ve made a decision _for_ him.” Jace took a long, wise drink, “This is Magnus’ decision to live on after you’re gone—you’ll be dead, Alec. It won’t affect you, but it’s Magnus’ choice to live through that without you then, to live with you now.”

Alec held his hand out for the water— “Be honest.” Jace nodded, “If you stopped ageing—and don’t be foolishly romantic about it. If you stopped ageing and Clary didn’t, your 23 forever and Clary is in her 50s. Yeah, she’s still obviously her, still, the same personality you love, the same voice and smile, only older. But, would you still be sexually attracted to her, the way that she would still be sexually attracted to your 23-year-old, youthful self?”

“Ugh Alec, please, stop thinking of my sex life!” they both laughed, but Jace grew sombre thinking of it. “I’d like to say yes, but I guess you're right everyone would say yes to their lover's face. It’s not a situation Clary and I will find ourselves in either so it’s a yes because it’s romantic and won't ever happen.”

“But it’s inevitable for Magnus and me.”

“I guess the love would be different then. It wouldn’t go away, but it would change.”

“Could you handle that?” Alec swallowed, “Could you bear Clary not being physically attracted to you? The way you feel for her is a thing of the past? Because Jace—it’s shallow, but—I can’t wake to Magnus knowing he’s with me for a love that he only half feels.”

Jace pondered it, but Alec knew he was asking him to imagine something he doesn’t have to face. “It’s not all about sex though Alec,” he smiled, Alec didn’t return it.

“That’s where you don’t understand how I feel. I know it’s not about sex, but it’s about your lover not wanting to make love to you anymore.” It seemed to click with the word lover and love. To have your lover not wish to make love to you anymore would be painful. It's not about the actual act but the knowledge of it. “I could be sexless with Magnus and love him to death if I only had the knowledge that he would make love to me. But to be sexless and know he wouldn’t anyway.”

“Has he said he would sleep with your crusty old self?”

“He admitted to not being attracted to people in their later 30s.”

“Oh–”

They sat listening to the car horns and sirens, Alec was thankful for the noise of New York to distract him. The silent tranquillity of Idris was stifling to Alec now, he understood Magnus’ shifting moods in Alicante. Jace had no more inexperienced advice to give him on immortal/mortal relationships. So he started to tell him about his plans for Clary’s birthday and decided to drop in that they were talking of trying for children. Alec continued to half-listen with a half joyous smile on his face for his brother. Children were another world to him, a world Alec could only see with Magnus. Even children, if they were Shadowhunters, Magnus would lose, why would he do that to him?


	5. The Breaking Point pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A curse? A curse to hold your love forever? Or is it perhaps, that he thinks it would be a curse to have to hold a love forever? We immortals do get bored quite easily.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thank you to my Beta Reader - ToughPaperRound - [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToughPaperRound/) \- [Tumblr](https://toughpaperround.tumblr.com/)

Alec paced the floor of the training room, his face flushed. He had risen early to hit the mats alone. Hearing the sounds of fists landing on the targets, vibrating off the high ceiling was soothing. He stopped thinking of everything that was eating him, he stopped moping about for the first time in weeks. He stood with his back to the wall, breathing heavy, wiping sweat from his brow. The brief moment of clarity came crashing down on him, all Alec could see was years of loneliness. He was momentarily paralysed by the crippling fear he felt at 18, that his life was going to be a void of nothing. He gasped hard, holding his hands on his shaking knees before he collapsed to the floor altogether.

-

Early on Wednesday, Alec and Jace found themselves outside the Hotel De Mort. Again Alec asked that Camille wasn’t here. “No!” Jace spat, “no, no, no. You think I would bring you here if she were here?”

“Yes.”

“Ye of little faith.”

“The lady doth protest too much.”

Jace banged on the door, singing _How D’ya Like Your Eggs In The Morning_ before kicking the door in. His seraph blade out and glowing into the shadows of the clan. A few short hisses met their ears but scurried off avoiding the slicing shaft of light. Alec drew his bow but kept it loose at his side, he placed a hand on Jace’s blade lowering it. “We’re not here to fight, we’re here to interrogate.”

“Here for who?” Her voice was like sweet caramel. Jace muttered under his breath, insisting he had no idea she was here, Alec pointed the tip of his arrow at Jace and Jace shrugged and rolled his eyes.

Jace let out a strangled moan, clutching Alec’s shoulder, “You’re travelling illegally Ms Belcourt, my my, red mark by your name when we get back.”

“Mag’s isn’t here _mortal_ boy.” Her voice was like sour wine. “But, I could contact him, arrange a little chinwag for the three of us, perhaps?”

Whatever influenced him, was similar to whatever possessed him to blow up his life, he lost control and heard static. Alec drew his bow and shot, only a few centimeters short of Camille's barely visible ringlet on her shoulder. The force of it sweeping it back, the arrow strong and true cracking the concrete behind her. The coven hissed in the shadows, some more dull-witted ones tried to reach for him in the protection of the sun.

“Now we are definitely not invited in,” Jace smirked, pleased to be beside his parabatai again. “Call that us being even, Camille, since you should be in Paris right now. Since you’re back, you might be able to explain the killings by a rogue Downworlder gang.”

Some Vampire’s laughed, some murmured about the arrogance of Shadowhunters and dared them to come back at night. Jace whip-quick told them to step out, the Vampires started to get louder. It became a slagging match between the two worlds, both afraid to attempt the challenge; they were outmanoeuvred. If they went in with Camille present and uninvited, it broke the accords. If they stepped out—well... Camille remained silent. She then airly let out a few words, “I’ve returned to comfort an immortal friend of mine, I shan’t name him because the mortal will get upset again. I’ll give a guess to who though – he’s _exceptional_ in bed, magical with his hands and has the most intoxicating laugh.”

Jace grabbed Alec’s quiver pulling him back before he could go into the shadows.

“How on Earth, Camille, do you expect—innocent—me to know who that is? One more time, Camille, or we will return with force. Some of your Vampires are in a rogue group, who are they? What do you know? Hand them over now, and this is done.” Jace persisted while stepping his heel painfully on Alec’s foot to get him to look down and away from Camille.

“I’m sorry, I have a meal tonight with the High Warlock, I have to go prepare myself. He’s always been an appreciator of a youthful appearance.” At some command, a Vampire burnt themselves, shutting the door of the De Mort. The whole coven laughed as Alec hit the cold metal, he sank to his knees before the door, Jace hovering a hand over his back, unsure if he would go in after her.

“We’ll be back later then, sweet cheeks,” Jace chirped.

-

They did return at dusk in dramatic Shadowhunter style. The old team back together with the addition of Max, which made Alec uncomfortable. Simon, for some foolhardy reason, tagged along despite everyone’s insistence that fighting your own kind was probably a bad idea. This time Alec kicked the door in, it scraped, screaming across the cracked concrete without his strength rune. Jace gave Isabelle a wary look, watching the tense shoulders of her big brother. Max found it amusing and applauded.

It was quiet, far too quiet, but it would be reasonable to assume they were out hunting or were lurking in the shadows at Camille’s orders. The room filled with Witch light clutched in Clary’s hand, high and bright, they were alone. Jace separated them off into three teams. Him and Alec, left and up. Simon and Clary, right and up. Isabelle and Max, center and down. Alec shook his head, eyes darting between Max and Isabelle. Jace shrugged and signalled to move on.

“Why the hell would you split us three ways? Max is too young? Both our siblings are now together and in danger!”

“They are in no more danger than us, Alec. Max is a good Shadowhunter, and you already know that of Izzy. You’ve been in Idris for 3 years, 3 years is a long time.”

They continued down the corridor still undisturbed by any of the Vampires. “Remember when Simon was turned into a rat?”

“Yes, I met Magnus.”

“Oh–” Jace shut up, spilling his witch light through his fingers into the deep corners of the hotel. Then they saw it, painted on the floor. “Is that blood?”

“Smells like iron.” Alec knelt and rubbed two fingers in the lines, it was dry. “I’ll take a swab, but I’ll bet it is.”

“Ten bucks.”

“Fine.” They shook on it.

Jace stood back, trying to take the markings in. It was unfamiliar to him from memories, but if anything, it sure looked bad. Alec stood back too and noticed the mark as Warlock.

“Is it?”

“Yes. It’s in the book of White.” Alec traced it in the air with his fingers, “But it’s wrong. Don’t ask me how, I can’t remember, but it should be more detailed. Where’s Clary gone? She should draw it.”

“Or take a photo of it!” Simon appeared out of nowhere, his phone in hand snapping a photo.

“How many times do we have to tell you, bringing your phone on a mission is not allowed?”

“Again—because it’s stupid.”

Alec actually agreed, and it was a policy he was trying to overturn back in Idris. But the old fuddy-duddies of the council will keep their old beliefs, Alec knew that as well as anyone. He stared at the markings a while longer, tilting his head this way and that. Jace mimicked as if to see what he was trying to understand or, simply, taunting him. But, whatever it was wouldn’t come to memory. They moved on, Clary catching up from behind saying she saw another symbol similar on the floor below. They expected to find another on the next level too. Isabelle was collecting a sample as they walked in, Max guarding at the door.

“Bottom floor is clean and empty, we skipped up the back stairs, also empty. This is blood. But, I’ll see if it’s human back in the lab.” She took Alec and Clary’s samples, placing them in her sealed medical bag. “No one is here.”

“She’s here,” Alec stated, he knew from the strong smell of perfume. The very scent that he knew Magnus liked, the one Magnus had bought her back in Victorian London that she paid millions to reproduce. Magnus kept an old clouding bottle of it on his vanity but refused to ever use it. He said it didn’t smell the same anymore anyway.

“Stay here.”

“Oh no cowboy, you ain't going to see her alone. Did you forget you shot an arrow at her today?”

“Then take my bow.”

“Oh no redneck, you ain't seeing her without a weapon either. You see the predicament?”

“Then come with me, Jace. Izzy, keep my bow. You have your weapon, you’re faster than me anyway.”

“Why are you hellbent on seeing her, Alec?” Isabelle quietly asked.

“She had more to say earlier, I know it.”

“What does it matter, Alec, it’s Camille?” Jace snapped, “I’m sure she has a lot of pretty pointless things to say to you.”

“It matters to me.”

-

She sat on the divan, a lady of leisure. Smothered in her perfume, and wearing a red ruby that would have matched the ruby necklace Magnus gifted her. Her hair delicately piled away from her neck, Magnus’ go-to spot for a first initiating kiss before sex. As Alec entered, she practically purred, tilting her head in offering then crassly saying, “Oh, you’re not interested like he would be though are you?”

“Don’t flatter yourself that even he is.”

“Oh—he very much was, so much so he had to painfully make himself forget.”

Alec bit his tongue, “ _Was,_ being the key word, Camille, perhaps forgetting would be easier if I _was_ to remove the source?”

Jace entered whispering to Alec to remain calm. Alec took a deep breath and listened, feeling the lightness of his quiver less back and his empty hand. He wasn’t stupid enough to actually make a move at Camille’s whim, but if his little demon woke again, perhaps he was.

“You had something to say earlier?”

Camille stood, prowling towards them, savouring whatever she was about to say, Alec was sure it would be ludicrous and embellished. Jace held the back of his shirt, his blade out towards her. She rested, almost purposefully against a cabinet that contained some masks. He knew they weren’t hers. She let her full curvaceous form be on display as if teasing Alec, by flaunting what he couldn’t offer Magnus, but he thought her foolish to waste the view. Knowing Magnus’ one soul policy, he didn’t fear her physical taunts, knowing Magnus’ wouldn’t either. She was chasing a long-buried past which made Alec smirk.

“I thought, I would help you move on from Magnus. I thought, I would tell you something that he obviously has kept secret from you.” She softened, her eyes growing caring. It was manipulating and untrustworthy. “He claims to love you, to love you like the world is held in your very chest, Alexander, but tell me why has he never offered to give you immortality?”

Alec rocked – “It’s not in his power, and why would i want it, that isn’t the point-”

“Isn’t it? The point, I mean.” She laughed, “It is in his power, poor boy. And, it is the point, you’ll never understand Magnus because you’ll never live long enough too. Magnus has the power to grant immortality, he has an awful lot of power. But, only a select few Warlocks can do it. He’s old enough and powerful enough. His love can’t be eternal, can it? If he hasn’t at least mentioned to you that your death could be unavoidable? Perhaps, pet, because that's what you really are, and he’s bored already?”

“There would be a reason,” Alec snapped, “there would be a legitimate reason. I have a family and friends to consider, he would ask me to watch them die.”

“But, he’ll peacefully watch you die, Alexander.”

“He’s always said immortality is a curse.” Jace’s grip hardened on Alec’s shirt, Alec was unconsciously reaching towards her, desperate to shut her up.

“A curse? A curse to hold your love forever? Or is it perhaps, that he thinks it would be a curse to have to hold a love forever? We immortals do get bored quite easily.”


	6. The Breaking Point pt.3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes, you have. But it’s only the truth, and Magnus can’t hold that against you. It's sadly a very real problem, the passage of time. No one remains the same forever, we all, immortal or mortal, learn and grow with each passing moment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thank you to my Beta Reader - ToughPaperRound - [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToughPaperRound/) \- [Tumblr](https://toughpaperround.tumblr.com/)

*****CHAPTER WARNING - Please be aware that there are scenes of bodily mutilation in this chapter.**

-

Alec stood at the workbench, pouring over the photos of the signs. They were all the same but missing different parts. Through careful sketching, Clary had pieced together the final design, but still, they had no idea what it was for.

Jace and Clary had gone alone to the wolf pack, and Luke was far more forthcoming than Camille. He admitted that four wolves had deserted recently, but as far as he was aware they had crossed borders, but he would look into it. The blood was human, from all the signs across the four floors that had them. They were drawing a blank, was it merely cult-related human killings? Isabelle cautiously suggested asking the High Warlock since he had seen the Book of the White. Alec only lowered his head. He sat, tapping the light glass surface of the desk, looking from one photo to the next until he had memorised everything when Jace came in.

He shuffled on his feet a little, looking at the desk quizzically before blurting out, “I have someone for you to meet.”

Alec looked confused, and Jace moved aside to reveal Tessa, her petite form had been shielded by Jace. She wore a simple white dress with a caramel cardigan and she smiled brightly at Alec, but her eyes were dark. Jace tapped a random photo upon the desk, tutting at it like it offended his intelligence before smiling at Tessa again, an interfering twinkle in his eye. He flicked his eyes back to Alec like he hadn’t realised he brought her into the room with him, as if implying she had been wandering the streets and inspiration struck him.

“Tessa!” Jace clapped once, “As a scholar she can answer all the obscene remarks, Camille, was babbling on about the other day.”

“Well, explain them,” Tessa whispered as if afraid to speak.

“Brilliant! I have a coffee date with Simon,” Jace shrugged at Alec’s offending glance, “We’re bonding.”

Alec walked Tessa to Jace’s room, shutting the door, throwing open all the windows. Before he could apologise to her for hurting Magnus, as it was almost guaranteed that they had spoken; or beg for forgiveness for whatever Jace had told her while he meddled in Alec’s wallowing, she began speaking in earnest.

“Giving immortally is the most painful, cruellest thing a Warlock can do to anyone. Especially a lover.” She paced the floor, worrying her hands and pulling at her cardigan. “Camille is sick, demented sick, to even suggest Magnus would ever consider doing it to you. It would not only destroy what love you have for him, but it would destroy Magnus to put you through it. It’s disgusting and that's why it is not common knowledge.”

He went to speak, but she shushed him, flicking her fingers to make him sit. She tore off her cardigan and paced some more.

“It takes seven days to give immortality. All seven stages are horrific, and once it’s started, there is no going back because if you do, the receiver will die. It’s irreversible, obviously, and the first stage is death–” she raised her finger, “No! listen.”

She sat at the foot of the bed, her hands held her crumpled cardigan tight. Her face was grave, she didn’t take her eyes from him once. “Magnus would have to use his blood to form a sigil, I don’t know the sigil, only warlocks at a certain level can open the book where it’s written. He would then chain you in the centre of the sigil—naked—as at birth. He’d then have to slice your throat, wrists and ankles. The first day you will bleed out over the sigil, your blood-forming a bath and Magnus cannot leave the room for those seven days. He must watch what he puts you through. He must witness your life, death and rebirth. The second day, he will force magic on to you. I don’t know if you know this, but magic doesn’t like the dead. The sigil is to trap your soul so regardless of the dead body, you will feel it, but you won’t be able to stop him. He will do this for the third and fourth day too. Until your body accepts the magic.”

She looked out the window as if lost in the past, Alec reached for her hand. They sat together for a bit, Alec watched her face run through different memories, her grey eyes shifting. “You don’t have to continue, Tess. Please, you don’t have to.” Alec whispered, “I’ve heard enough, Camille was being cruel. She probably doesn’t even know how a warlock would give immortality. She likely thinks she’s special for even knowing.” He rambled, hoping to derail Tess and stop himself from thinking about it.

“No, you need to understand why Magnus would never do it to you.” She sniffled, “Just like I would never do it to Will. Not that I was powerful enough at the time anyway, I only knew because of Magnus. But, had I been able, I would have rather left him.”

She paused, collecting herself, straightening her cardigan and tapping Alec’s hand.

“On the fifth day, he will take your heart. At this point, it will beat with magic. Being separated from your heart isn’t just physically painful, it will be emotional. He will literally take your heart and love from you, the heart may not be actually why we love but to hold a lover's beating heart? It’s binding to the contract of what he is giving you.”

“The sixth day, he will burn it. Burn it in his magic until it is all ashes. Then on the seventh, he will place the ashes in your chest using his magic to stitch you back up like a doll. Your blood, that wouldn’t have dried in the seven days because of your soul, will force its way back into your body. You will be left with a scar on your throat, wrists and ankles. A sign of what Magnus has done.” Tess looked Alec dead in the face, “You won’t love him anymore; you’ll hate him, and you’ll be immortal for it.”

-

“I don’t know why Camille would suggest it, I don’t know why she would even know it. It's not a topic Warlocks talk about. Alec, if it was simple, you can bet Magnus would offer it to you. I know he would, you’ve made him complete again in a way he hasn’t been for decades.”

“I’m sorry.” Alec whispered for the fifth time.

“For what?”

Alec looked at her tiny hands in his. He’ll admit Camille had wormed her way into his head by suggesting Magnus could solve this issue of his death. Alec had thought over her saying he wouldn’t want to spend forever with him. He had considered that he was romanticising forever. Sure, forever is a far-fetched concept? But whether it was or not, Magnus was the only person he could see himself saying it to. “For hurting Magnus because I’m not able to forget about—how short our time is.”

Tessa sighed. “Alec there’s nothing to be sorry for. What you’re concerned with is the concern of all mortal and immortal relationships. Will and I had it too. Some—like us—are selfish enough to accept it will end. But others, yourself, can’t accept hurting your partner like that. I know, because I visited him before coming here. So please, believe me, Magnus is not angry with you. Magnus is older than me, he understands your train of thought perfectly. He’s just hurt because –you’re unobtainable. He won’t move on until you’ve passed on and even then, I think it’ll be awhile before he does.”

“—But that’s not even being with him! I can’t win this without hurting him, Tess, if I stay with him, I hurt him, I hurt myself when I look at him and realise he isn’t looking at me the way he used to anymore. This isn’t even about me being immortal, I’d never ask that of him. But to have your lover look at you with eyes that don’t desire you? What was it like with Will?”

She sat back, “It hurt. Because you’re too wise beyond your years, Alec, you’re right. There came a point, and I can’t tell you when it happened, but it did, where I no longer desired Will. I wasn’t attracted to him in the same way. However—I was still madly in love with him. So, madly in love with him, I wanted nothing else but to care for him, make him laugh and smile and be happy everyday. I can 100% guarantee you that Magnus will love you till, and beyond, your last breath, even old and grey, Alec," she giggled. "Will—never mentioned how it made him feel, so I can't ease that side for you. I guess it would be similar to what you think it’ll be like, but he never wanted to hurt me by mentioning it.”

“I’ve mentioned it.”

“Yes, you have. But it’s only the truth, and Magnus can’t hold that against you. It's sadly a very real problem, the passage of time. No one remains the same forever, we all, immortal or mortal, learn and grow with each passing moment.”

Sirens wailed in the distance, dusk was arriving again. “I can’t go back and fix it now.”

She nodded, which only stuck another nail in his self-made coffin, “No—you can’t, but you can start by seeing Magnus.”

-

The moment Tessa left, Alec walked toward his old rooms, realised it wouldn’t be his room and so walked towards his office. Stopped with his hand on the door handle before remembering he was the Inquisitor. He found himself back in the training room. Leaning against the cool stone he watched Max run drills around a dummy. Two steps left, low right strike. Step back, right hip strike. Two steps forward, twist, turn, elbow to the lower back. Spin round, back to back, lunge out, swipe leg. Up, two steps left. Reset. Repeat. Fast. More moves. Faster. Smack, smack, smack.

Reset. Max’s precise rhythm set a timer to Alec’s thoughts as he ran through everything: everything Tessa had said, everything Camille had said, Jace had said, he had said and all the things he had wanted Magnus to have said instead of silently walking away. Before he knew it, there was a loud crackling static in his head and he was hyper aware of his heart beating in his throat and the blood pushing at his fingertips. Apparitions of rings of blood, scarred wrists, twisted necks, shackled ankles and flaming magic blurred his vision. Tessa’s already vivid descriptions, painted fresh and exaggerated by his own imagination but Camille replaced Magnus.

“Alec, hey, Alec,” Max’s hand rested on his cheek, he didn’t look worried, he looked alert and ready. Max’s index and forefinger on Alec’s pulse at his wrist, he looked professional and adult. Nothing like the young boy Alec kept seeing him as.

Alec gently held his hand, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re having a panic attack, sit up. Breathe in time with me. Relax.”

They sat for a while cross legged on the mats, Alec watched as Max slowed his breathing and began to fidget from restless muscles. He lent forward and flicked Max’s ear, smiling at the young man he was becoming.

“Jace was right,” Alec choked out, “You don’t need help anymore.”

“No, but clearly--” he trailed off.

“Clearly, what?” Alec smirked, “Clearly, I might? You get your lack of tactfulness from Jace.”

Max laughed, “Will you go see Magnus, soon?” He picked up Alec’s sweater, running the hood through his fingers before pulling the tag out critically. Turning it to show Magnus’ elegantly scrawled MINE in black marker clearly in the candle lights. “I’ll go with you.”

“I’m not sure if I should, or can.” Alec barely let out, taking the tag from Max’s hand and covering it.

“Do you still love Magnus?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then stop complicating it.” Max stood, “Why waste time thinking of everything that can and will go wrong, why not just live now and happy? Don’t end up like Mum and Dad.” He took two staffs from the rack, and leveled one at Alec’s chests. “Fight me and I’ll shut up if you can win, but honestly, like Jace said, you sit behind a desk now, so...”

Alec blinked stunned, before snatching the staff and just as quickly tapping it to Max’s side. “Honestly, you should have stopped that coming since I’m behind a desk all day,” just as quickly he was up and behind Max, his staff leveled to the side of his slowly pinking ear. “Honestly, Maxwell, sounds like you’ve been reading Izzy’s gossip columns too much.”

“Fighting talk and denial too! I read that in the last issue of _I Like To Hold The World On My Shoulders Because I’m A Man’s Man_ Magazine.” They walked to the centre of the mat both laughing, Alec caught the mischievous look of Jace in Max’s eye and he knew he had been having far too many gossip sessions with Isabelle and her hopelessly romantic ways. Alec felt proud of him, and couldn’t wait to be in the field with him again or to relentlessly start teasing him the moment he had a crush. Two can play the _‘I've spent too much time with Jace’_ game. Max tapped the dummy's head. “Don’t let Camille win.”

Alec bought his staff down, “It’s not a game.”

“Show her that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concludes the 2nd arc, thank you so much for all your comments, kudos and hits so far! I hope to be posting the final arc mid-September or sooner, depending on beta reading etc-
> 
> -Ashleigh.


	7. The Retribution pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Time is a horrific thing when you really start to think about it. You start to question everything, every minute spent. Every hour, week planned. You realise that time won’t stop for anyone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thank you to my Beta Reader - ToughPaperRound - [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToughPaperRound/) \- [Tumblr](https://toughpaperround.tumblr.com/)

Magnus answered the door before Alec had even raised his hand to knock. Presumably alerted by Chairman’s feline instinct that his second favourite back scratcher was approaching the door. It felt like old times; it felt like all those years ago when they first met; it felt like the day Magnus had given him his own key, and Alec wasn’t entirely sure whether he should use it. The Warlock stood before him with bloodshot eyes and slightly hollowed cheeks. He was in _the-disaster-comfort_ clothes that he only wore around the house when he was feeling sorry for himself. His ankle was starkly bare of Alec’s ankle bracelet. A little tan line left behind as if it still would not let go.

“Hey—”

Magnus leapt forward pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. His overly hair-sprayed hair made him sneeze, his cheek rammed against his neck—one leg hooked around his thigh for good measure. Chairman insistently asked for pats at Alec’s other leg, clawing his leather boots. He felt Magnus sob once, which set him off too. It was a mess, and they hadn’t even got in the flat yet.

Reluctantly, and as if triggered by an afterthought, Magnus let go. He stepped back, only the bare minimum before almost shyly asking, “Why have you come round?”

His eyes shone like liquid gold, and devoid of make-up, Alec thought Magnus looked small and child-like. He put out his hand and waited, Magnus, placed his fingers in his palm but did not dare to hold his hand. Alec did. “We need to talk about us, and how I can’t let this ridiculous thought go away, and why I can’t let it be the end, and how much I’ve missed you, and—”

-

How they ended up tangled in the covers on the floor of the flat, in the middle of the living room, Alec knew was complete carnal desire and emotional breakdown. He lay nestled in the blankets, his head resting on Magnus’ shoulder and again he apologised because he really did not mean to come around for a booty call. Magnus laughed again, but his laugh was strangled, it made Alec frown. For the first time, he felt somewhat balanced but still exceptionally empty. His Warlock rubbed little circles in his back, traced his spine and drew his marks but for all the tender love it did not fill him up. He played with Magnus’ other hand refusing to let it go. 

But he had to. He sat up and leant against the sofa. Chairman finally came out of the kitchen, opting to sit by his shoulder. He gave him a sorry scratch for being so indecent in front of him, which seemed to please the pink cat immensely. “I’m sorry.”

Magnus sat up against the other sofa, taking one of the blankets to wrap himself in. Even in a sheet, he was stunning, Alec had missed it. “You don’t need to apologise.”

“I feel like I should. I should. If I never let my thoughts run away with me and I told you earlier on, perhaps we could have worked it out together? But now it’s eaten everything—”

“It hasn’t touched how I feel about you at this moment in time, Alec. Alexander, we still have time to sort this out and get back something of what we still—absolutely—have. I know it won't be the same, you’re a wise man Alexander,” Magnus laughed, crunching the sheets. “I take some credit for that, having an all-powerful ancient boyfriend and all to direct you in your younger years.” They both laughed, Alec, nudged Magnus’ calf, secretly wishing they hadn’t automatically put distance between themselves. The sofa spanned the gulf of space, a space that was cold and full of slipping time. “You’re too quick for your own good, but we had a heavenly six years. We can still have a peaceful decade or two more?” Magnus asked quietly, fearful. “or—much, much more. Because Alec, I can’t tell you what our relationship will be when you’re a silverfox and your laugh lines stick and you perpetually doze on the sofa, but I can tell you that I want it. All of it. All of you. For as long as possible, for as long as you'll have me.”

Alec looked at his hands, they weren’t old, he was still young. He was deeply in love and hurting both himself and his lover when he could bear it and accept what little they had for as long as Magnus or himself could give it. When the time came that Magnus viewed him differently, they could cross it then—together. “We could have—yes. Yes. It seems so stupid now to worry about something so—vain? So shallow, as I know you’ll love me, but it’ll be weird won’t it? Me old and grey, and you, you.”

Magnus gave him a small smile, “It will be, definitely. But that's the risk immortals take when they fall in love with mortals, Alec. And, I’m more than willing to take it _with_ you.”

“What if we get there, and I find it to hard to be with you because—”

“You’ll be a sugar daddy.”

“Magnus. Please.” Alec laughed, “I know opinions and looks shouldn’t matter, but when I’m old, and I see a young guy or woman walk by looking at you, I’m going to think you could be with them. Does that make sense? I won’t _want_ you to be but I could see you in a young, fun relationship. Not, looking after me.”

“Alec,” Magnus reached for his hands, pulling them into his lap. “You can’t think that far ahead. You mustn't. I learnt the hard way, that looking too far ahead can stop you living. Focus on now, this year, perhaps a holiday next year. But, not in decades.” He sneered, “Time is a horrific thing when you really start to think about it. You start to question everything, every minute spent. Every hour, week planned. You realise that time won’t stop for anyone. You’re stuck in that at the moment, Alec. Reality is, if it wasn’t for being with an immortal, you probably wouldn’t have thought this deeply about time. I’m sorry.”

“Like you said it was inevitable.” 

“I still don’t understand what made you come around.” Magnus shuffled a little closer with Alec’s quiet nodding, but froze when Alec said _Camille_ , “Was this her all along?”

“No.” Alec insisted, looking Magnus dead in the eye to be sure he knew this was between only them. “The Institute is investigating a rogue Gang that are killing Mundanes. It led Jace and me to Camille. Then she told me something that Tessa confirmed.”

“Tessa? My Tessa?” Magnus looked confused, he was reeling from Alec mentioning a whole life with him and Alec seemingly accepting that time is a slippery bugger that chases you as much as it runs ahead. He was high from the idea of never losing him until death came to collect, hoping that this was the missing link in their conversation to help Alec come to terms with the tragic side of their relationship.

“Warlocks can give immortality.” 

Magnus sat very still, everything in the room seemed to stand in place, holding that slippery bugger of time as if reacting to the stillness that came in waves from him. Locked tight like the skin of a balloon, waiting to be pricked. Magnus’ eyes went dark, his face seemed to hollow, and when Alec looked at him, he was old. Primordial, otherworldly and of a league of power older than the Nephilim knew. Time seemed to slip by around them, going through them. Alec could see time around Magnus move, but he wasn’t untouched by it, which Alec had assumed at first. Alec was wrong, it weighed on him, every second seemed to leave a mark. A tiny nick, layers upon layers of them of everything Magnus had ever gained and lost due to his immortality.

“I can.” The room popped, sounds came back in from the city, Chairman purred at Alec’s ear. Magnus was youthful, time slipped through him again, but now Alec knew it left its toll. “If that’s what you insist on.” Magnus’ voice was distant like it was trapped in glass.

“It isn’t.” Alec moved forward, closing the gap. His knees bumped Magnus’, and he gathered the sheets between them, fluffing it around them like a nest. “I wouldn’t ask you either.”

Magnus kissed him, quick and sharp. The kiss seemed to give Magnus his breath back as he took Alec’s hands once again.

Alec continued, “Tessa told me what you would have to do. She told me about her and Will, which made me realise I’m not the only one to ever be in a relationship with an immortal, my problems aren’t new. I knew that, but I never thought to talk to Tessa about Will, I should have. Then Max gave me a little kick as well, he’s a bit of a little shit now.”

“Thank the Gods for Max.” Magnus chuckled. “Will and Tess went through it, I saw it. But I also saw them work despite everything.”

“Why didn’t you ever mention it though?”

Magnus laughed, “Because this moment would have come a lot sooner, and I simply can’t, regardless, do it to you.”

“If I asked?” Alec knew the answer, he asked purely to prove to himself that Camille was so wrong about Magnus and his relationship.

“I would.”

“Why?”

“I love you,” Magnus whispered. He moved to sit beside Alec, draping his legs over Alec’s and resting his cheek on his shoulder. “I can’t imagine watching you die by my hand, watching—that happen to you.”

Alec watched Magnus’ hand trace the marks on his chest, his fingers applying a little pressure slicing across his throat. His index and thumb shackling his wrists one by one and twisting a jagged cut. His fingers tapped his ankles. Alec knew that Magnus saw the same images in his mind of the immortality ritual, the Warlock shuddered as the Shadowhunter went cold.

Magnus jumped up and walked naked to the kitchen, he flipped the kettle on and started banging cupboards. Alec watched him pad around the kitchen, gathering snacks, pouring the boiled water into the mugs, and Alec caught the smell of chocolate. To do his bit, Alec rearranged the living room, but unlike his lover, he pulled his boxers on and heard a faint sigh from the kitchen. He mumbled about his recent lack of confidence and received a tut and presumably a killer eye roll. 

“You are beautiful, with or without a partner, Alexander.” He set down a tray with some biscuits, marshmallows, and strawberries on. Two large mugs of hot chocolate and cream came quickly after. Alec smirked, Magnus was still in self-care mode and was extending it to him, which he gladly accepted, curled up to Magnus’ side wrapped in cotton sheets. His future opening back up before him one breathless kiss at a time.

-

They had both agreed that before getting back together, they would start again. They knew it was pointless, but they were going to date again with Alec unblinded by the naïve belief that forever—literally—meant forever. Magnus jokingly foretold it would be a week before they gave up that mature façade but was willing to ease back in after having such a harsh break.

After falling asleep on the sofa, after crying about his solitude in Idris and hearing that Magnus had stayed with Catarina, Alec showered and got dressed. He opted to walk home instead of using their old portal that went directly to his old room, he wanted to think of something to do to set things right. Alec wanted to think of better words to explain to Magnus what had caused such a rift. 

Magnus had hoped that he would stay but Alec, reluctantly breaking the hug, insisted it would be better to leave for now. However, the walk wasn’t the best option. A few minutes in he was drenched in sweat, and the smell of the city that had become foreign to him was making him queasy. He contemplated going back to the apartment, but his body told him that that would end in staying the night and likely crying some more. 

He trudged on, disregarding his jacket, slinging it over his shoulder. Counting the cracks, he strode on to distract his mind from the heat. It was too humid. The view he had about New York as he’d arrived was finally shifting back to reality. His beautiful yet stifling city. He thought of the murders and how it would feel being a Mundane to die by a supernatural creature, a thing of books and films. The fear of realising the world you’re about to leave was much, much bigger than you thought. Magnus had said he would investigate the murders too, it would give him something to pull himself out of the Magnus-sized hole he had dug. They both thought the same thing, the Gang wasn’t linked with any of the New York Downworlders, they were foreign or ran by a foreign leader. Magnus, interestingly, suggested that perhaps there would be links across the country then, a moving syndicate that when things got too near the surface would dissolve and move on.

Alec walked past an alleyway and his awareness rune pulsed, crawling beneath his skin to alert him to a presence. In the week they had managed to uncover traces of the Gang’s existence in the sewer, linking the murders with the pipelines. But the sewer system was vast, so merely knowing that meant nothing. He looked down the alleyway using his vision rune, and sure enough, there was a broken manhole. Quickly he dropped Jace a text of his location, then he messaged Magnus and laid in wait behind the bins, watching the hole for movement.

Jace text back quick, “No phones on missions! See ya.”

He knew Jace wouldn’t take long, so he settled in, eyes alert to the manhole. Nothing moved, but his awareness rune was shifting violently. Pulsing steady and fast. Either they were just under the entrance or—his vision went black. A sharp, liquid heat spreading at the back of his head.


	8. The Retribution pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec could see a familiar yet distant cat-eyed man. His eyes were seeing but looking through the horror. Alec gurgled; the blood was drowning him. His blood was suffocating him before he could scream, the unforgiving life source sucked him under. His vision went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thank you to my Beta Reader - ToughPaperRound - [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToughPaperRound/) \- [Tumblr](https://toughpaperround.tumblr.com/)

He was cold, rigidly cold, and it hurt so much. Everywhere ached, everywhere felt bruised. He tried to open his eyes, but a weight stopped him, he tried to flex his fingers, but they stubbornly resisted. The more he fought, the more the blackness seemed to take him, and he was so, so tired. He decided to stop resisting for a few minutes in the hopes of conserving energy. Still, it only succeeded in dragging him further into darkness. He could feel his consciousness slipping again, his vision going white with sleep. Sleep made him feel warm, it made him feel comfortable. 

Alec relaxed, he burrowed down further into the warmth and safety that held him when he did. He slept, peaceful in black oblivion.

He sat up. The room he was in was golden, haloed in a buttery light, his skin was glowing. A light earthy breeze tickled his face. He raised his hand and realised that his fingers were paperwhite, almost transparent. Moving his fingers back and forth, he rubbed his right thumb over his calloused knuckles on his left hand and marvelled as they disappeared and returned. He was immediately aware that he was asleep, aware in his dream that he was dreaming, but Alec feared he wasn’t in control. He no longer had control of who he was, that simple privilege had been mercilessly stripped from him. He had no choice. He pinched himself, and nothing happened, no pain flared in his skin, no indication of waking. He tried to scream himself awake, screamed and screamed into the vacuum of a room but he heard no sound, no breath of air escaped his lips. The silence only made the door behind him open, his mother walked in.

“What’s all that racket?” she said into the crippling silence, and he tried to reply but nothing happened. Her heels on the stone clicked sharply, the sound too loud for the quietness of Alec. “It isn’t that bad.”

Alec was standing now though he didn’t remember moving to get up, he did not hear his movement, he was not a being allowed to make a mark on the world his dream inhabited. His consciousness wanted him to stand, and so he stood. Alec looked down and noticed the lavish suit he was wearing, jet black like a void, harsh against his unnatural skin. Then he realised his mother was wearing an expensive-looking dress, he recognised it, but he couldn’t pinpoint from where. 

“Come on it's time.”

He followed her, but as soon as he stepped through the door, he was already elsewhere. No movement seemed to occur, no feeling of falling. He was cold. Alec stood fidgeting and nerve-wracked in front of two columns of seated people. His hands wouldn’t stop worrying themselves. A laugh caught his attention—it was Jace—in a matching black suit sans the flower in his buttonhole. His skin was molten gold, it blinded his eyes to look at. He felt hot and alive, compared to Alec, untouchable and dangerous.

“Don’t worry, Clary found the rings.” He seemed chuffed with himself for not being the worst best man ever. Best man? Alec went to speak but his voice caught in that vice lock of not being able to comment on a life that was no longer his, he wasn’t allowed to speak ever again. He went cold. Music started, and Alec looked to the door automatically, but his vision went black before he could see who it was.

-

He rolled over in a plush bed, fighting the darkness and the coldness that was beside him. It spread, and it spread fast, threatening to engulf him and swallow him whole. The bed was empty and he was old. He felt his aching bones on the soft lonely bed. He sat bolt up, slipping out of bed with practised ease, grabbing his dressing gown and dragging his feet to his slippers. It was fluid and rehearsed, he knew exactly where to go for warmth, exactly what to do to fight the dark. Alec looked down at his hands again, he had six fingers on one and seven on the other, a dream still. He was asleep. The moment he realised he strained to wake up, coughed and choked on something sharp. Something pushed down on his body, enveloping him in a steady heat but his flesh was cold, so very cold.

He made his way down a hallway, about halfway there he stopped, a voice was screaming. An ear-splitting scream full of horror and violence. Malevolent in intent. He felt his eyes flutter, but everything was too heavy. The voice was frantic, but it was incoherent. Sharp hissing and harsh snaps of sound filled every inch of breathable air around him. Instinctively, he looked up but was confronted with the endless black ceiling that reached up, up and away. He felt as if that void held eyes, hundreds of pairs of eyes watching and waiting to see if he could wake, speak or gain control of his poppet body. What else would he have seen, if there were a little light? He wanted to climb up it, but he still wasn’t in control. He stumbled on a little dazed, pulled by the need to find warmth and hide from the lurking presence of death. He was so tired, and he only really wanted to sleep a dreamless sleep.

Alec reached the door at the seemingly never-ending corridor and opened it quietly. Some innate instinct told him to be extra quiet, painfully muted in his existence, Alec poked his head around the door and was caught off guard by a small cot and lullaby box soothingly playing. He recognised it, it was Isabelle’s and was their mothers. His eyes made it to another set of slipper-wearing feet. Up some very obnoxiously bright pyjama pants. Before his attention was rapturously caught with a tight paternal rush, on the sight of the tiny feet resting in the occupant’s hands. Ten wrinkled little toes, scrunching at his unblinking scrutiny. So delicately held like precious glass, his vision went black.

-

He was crying, _manly_ crying as he whispered to the stranger beside him, for whatever _manly_ crying was. His hand unsteadily holding a phone recording the stage. He felt an arm looped around his and a hand with a single thin silver ring gripped his to steady him. A breath of a whisper saying _you only get one shot of this Angel,_ but the voice was hollow, bodiless.

Someone screamed a gut retching scream like a person was being torn apart. That scream was unlike the other which had wept as if it had been utterly destroyed and left mercilessly to pant and gasp alone. This scream was feral. Something brushed past him, but he could not move, his body felt stiff, his lungs flat and chilled. A web of forgotten machinery in a clockwork body that had lost its power. Again, he was aware of a warmth around him that could not touch him deeply enough. He went to blink, but instead, his eyes closed tighter, fighting being opened, a pressure on his thin lids irritated him. He drifted back to the comfort of rest. His hand before him held a phone again, his hand ghostly translucent, specks of blackened veins running underneath, sparking off in a vine-like path uncontrollable up a never ending wall. He felt stretched thin. Before Alec could look to the individual beside him, remembering the voice trapped in glass—he turned to the stage where the scream had come from.

The stage was a bloodbath. He—himself but how he looked in his teens—was chained in the centre of the stage, bleeding out but his blood didn’t stop at the sigil as he knew it should. It continued to wash towards him. No one was on the stage to witness his death, so he knew he’d die. The blood kept coming, flooding forward endlessly and thickening fast. Camille sat on a divan in the eaves flashing her pretty neck and rounded breasts, her perfume mixing vilely with the iron smell of the blood, a familiar yet distant cat-eyed man stood behind her. His eyes were seeing but looking through the horror. Alec gurgled; the blood was drowning him. His blood was suffocating him before he could scream, the unforgiving life source sucked him under. His vision went black.

-

He was cold again; colder than the last time he was awake. Was he awake? He still couldn’t open his eyes. Something was digging into his back, he tried to gasp but opening his mouth was a mistake. He inhaled something that he could only place as dirt. He stopped fighting—something pushing on his lips and eyes, entering his ears, tickling his neck. The little burrow he was in was invitingly warm and he was so tired, it enticed him to sleep again, but something told him, sleep now and sleep forever.

And that pitiful whimpering scream came again. Desperate and pleading. It made him want to cry, it made his chest shudder a choked half breath. His lips tight against what threatened to drown him. Alec tried again to move, if he could reach his stele, he could activate his stamina rune to push on, but Alec’s fingers felt deathly ridged. Closed over like they wouldn’t move again. He was stiff, and he couldn’t move because his body didn’t feel like it was his anymore, he grew agitated and angry something had to give, something had to be real. The crying was so painful to hear, the breaking of whoever it was, the endless wail to _wake up._

_Wake up._

_Wake up._ Sob. A scream that wrecked him to the core.

Alec tried one last time to move, bargaining with the body that trapped him that if not this time, then I’ll sleep a little longer. He felt something give, and he grasped soil, it wrapped around his cold fingers. Again, he moved like swimming through cement, everything moved around him trickling over his face, shifting over his cold skin. Warm earth, raw flesh. He kept his mouth shut though he wanted to shout— _he was awake, I’m awake._ I’m awake.

The scream tailed off in aborted rage, another high cry of shock joining it along with shouts of surprise from various other voices. He tried again like a wave to move, up and up. It seemed to get easier, thinner, fresher. Alec was assaulted with a powerful desire to turn back, to simply stop and let go. Something deep in him screamed don’t do this, don’t take that breath.

The moon breached his vision above but before Alec could see who broke in a desperate cry of joy—his vision blacked out.


	9. The Retribution pt.3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wanted to know who would do such a hideous thing to him—a Shadowhunter. But he knew, a part of him knew, that that underlining smell of cheap perfume that lingered on him was Magnus’ favourite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thank you to my Beta Reader - ToughPaperRound - [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToughPaperRound/) \- [Tumblr](https://toughpaperround.tumblr.com/)

Alec sunk into the silk sheets some more, revelling in their soft warmth. He swam in the smoothness, turning slowly, aware of his multitude of aches and pains. The most prominent pain being the suffocating cracked dryness of his throat. He sucked at his tongue to draw out any saliva because childishly, he really did not want to leave his nest to get a proper drink. He tasted blood, dried iron flakes on his tongue and a sharp pain from his lip dragging on something sharp. Alec smacked his lips together, dispelling the tingling sensation it left in his mouth. He sat up, dizzyingly fast and shocked. The sun streaming in on him hurt a little, stung even. It was too bright, his skin prickled with it and his muscles twisted away. Alec had to fight himself to not curl up under the sheets and hide. Fight his lips not to hiss with irritation. His feet met with the familiar rug of his room, and all the aches stopped with the recollection. A strange smell of congealed iron was in the air, it made his stomach turn.

“Alexander –”

He stood, wobbling like a child. Then far too quickly that he shocked himself, he was a few inches from Magnus. The tip of his nose to the tip of Magnus’, Magnus’ breath a ragged slap to his cheek as he sharply exhaled. Alec's own shock made him suck air back in as if to counterbalance his bizarre reaction. _Fear?_ He looked to him and back to the bed, turning his confusion on Magnus who looked warily back at him, poorly concealing his previous reaction. Magnus’ eyes had dilated, Alec watched them shift back to a steady gaze.

“You’re probably hungry.” Magnus held up a metal cup, something thick moved inside it. Before he could ask what it was, he had it at his lips. The taste of blood hit his tongue, he gagged but couldn’t stop the compulsion to gulp in full gasps of desperation. Sickening desperate gulps of horror. Thick metallic iron slipped down his throat, warm but chilling. It coated his teeth with a thick layer of slowly congealing blood, his tongue dragged across his teeth, searching the corners of his mouth where the blood collected. His stomach convulsing for more.

Once he had finished the horrific drink and cleared all of it from the sides of the cup, he crashed into the vanity set, drawing back his lips to confront what had dragged his lip earlier. They glistened ominously in his mouth, dripped in a ruby red that was trailing darker down his chin. The Warlock took a step towards him, but Alec utilising his newfound swiftness, had himself locked in the bathroom before Magnus could touch him. Before anyone else could see him; before his eyes lingered on the blood on his chin. Before his eyes turned to Magnus’ nervous pulse at his wrist stretched towards him.

Alone in the bathroom, he was relieved that Magnus did not pry, he knew—because he could smell him—that Magnus had not left the room either. He was patiently waiting for Alec to realise this wasn’t a dream, he wasn’t going to wake up. He held his nose as if that would make it go away, the smell of blood, the smell of death and decay. He ran the tap quickly to get rid of the evidence on his face and chest, then stared endlessly at the fangs in his mouth.

He wanted to know who would do such a hideous thing to him—a _Shadowhunter_. But he knew, a part of him knew, that that underlining smell of cheap perfume that lingered on him was Magnus’ favourite. There was only one person who still used it. The image before him was odd, he could see himself more clearly than before, his eyes were sharper, the colour far more pronounced. He watched how fast his eyes were darting back and forth, chasing each other across the glass, trying to see how they used to see. His skin had already been pale with a slight olive undertone, but now it radiated a glow like he had bathed in the sun a bit to heighten his complexion. Somehow it was cold, somehow it looked all fake and too perfect, an allure to weaker prey. His hair was shiny, but that could have been his eyes picking out the light reflecting off each individual strand because his pupils would not still. They caught dust on the mirror, his useless breath on the glass, the twitch of his cheek as his fangs moved. They frantically looked around every inch of him, every inch of the cabinet, he seemed exceedingly fascinated with the water running in the sink.

He felt his neck.

Nothing.

-

Magnus sat on the bed, his feet curled under him, wearing one of Alec’s most unfashionable jumpers. Still, as always, he managed to pull it off. The image almost derailed Alec’s train of thought, but the second the metal cup in the Warlock's hand was revealed, it stopped him from spending an hour simply looking at Magnus’ glittering eyeliner. He wanted it. He felt his canines extend after an hour of trying to get them to disappear, his mouth watering at the prospect of more blood. Magnus stood with more confidence this time, walking straight to him without the wariness he saw earlier. Clearly more adjusted to Alec than Alec was. He held Alec’s hand and gave him the cup in the other. “You need to feed before you see the others.”

“What happened?”

“Camille happened.”

“I can smell her on me.”

Magnus shuddered, he knew the smell well enough, he could smell it coming from Alec himself. He preferred it on Alec—it really was his favourite perfume, even after all this time—but he wished it were under a different circumstance. “It’ll fade.”

Alec let the cup touch his lips, but this time he tried to control himself. It was a struggle, he had to drop Magnus’ hand before he crushed it. So, Magnus placed a reassuring hand on his chest instead. He had three more before he dressed, spraying himself in far too much cologne to drown out _hers_. Magnus laughed—“It will fade, I promise.” He shrugged out of Alec’s fashion disaster jumper and gave it to him. “I’ve been wearing it all day, all night for the past four days.”

Alec pulled it on, feeling Magnus’ warmth and smelling the familiar coffee, sandalwood and smoke mix that was Magnus’ Warlock kitchen. An ever-present smell that Magnus hated but couldn’t part with—“Wait. Four days?”

“You’ve been asleep, Alec; you fought the transition. Your Nephilim blood must have been resisting it. You kept whispering how tired you were.” Magnus’ eyes watered at Alec’s struggle and the near loss, a loss he wasn’t remotely prepared for. “Let’s see the others, they’ve been interrogating the snake.”

“Wait,” Alec’s memories flickered on something, something in the past. Something that he could hold on to and run away with from this. “The gang?”

Magnus smiled, “We didn’t really have time to follow that lead, clearly. It’s not really the main topic at the moment, either.”

Alec sat, staring at the quiet veins in his hands. Turning them over and over, waiting for the sign of anything. He latched onto the gang again, “But was it them? In the drain?”

“Camille came at you from above, nothing came from the drain.”

Alex smirked, a twitch of his cold cheek, “It was them, we’re close to finding them.”

“It was likely Camille’s doing, Alec.” Magnus shuffled closer to him, taking his fidgeting hands in his. “Do you want to see the others?”

“We should continue investigating.”

Magnus quietly surveyed Alec’s lost eyes, they pleaded for him to not derail him from his denial. “Ok.”

-

Camille was bound and gagged in the glass prison in the basement. She was a wreck, and someone had stabbed her because her lilac dress was ruined by the stomach. It couldn’t have been a Shadowhunter, but then again, Camille had very clearly broken the Accords. She tried to rock herself free, but Alec recognised the chains. Isabelle had made them from Angel Fire, she wasn’t going anywhere.

No one heard him enter, he had to clear his throat to get them to stop their conversation. He had never noticed how soundless Magnus’ could be until he was soundless. The only one that flickered an ounce of notice was Simon. No one spoke, Jace looked to him with an empty face, Max clutched to Isabelle’s side looking conflicted. Then Jace flicked his hand in front of a stunned Clary’s face, shushing her away, “Don’t all rush. Parabatai Privilege.” 

He held Alec as he held him the day he returned to the Institute. His cheek pressed to his as he whispered _brother_ to him with a small sniffle. Alec held him tight but conscious of his newfound strength. He felt a little tap at his hip, and Max joined the hug once Alec took notice. Tapping Alec like he was wary of an animal and didn’t want to approach without acknowledgement first. It was probably the smart thing to do, they all looked normal, but Alec was hyper-aware of their throats and the nervous fear in the air. Only Simon showed no concern, instead, his eyes held acknowledgement of future loss and struggle. He held Jace closer for a bit to dispel the thought then noticed Isabelle patiently waiting.

He moved away from Jace who held Max back while Alec and Isabelle hugged. She cried into his shoulder. He could smell her lavender perfume and hoped it would mix more with his. She held him so tightly, he thought she might crush him first. Then she sneezed, “You smell like a perfume shop.”

“Thanks.”

Clary jumped in beside Izzy and gave her little squeeze of affirmation, more confident and smooth than the others thanks to her bond with Simon. Then they all turned to Camille.

“She won’t talk. She just keeps saying that she’s won.”

“Won what?” Magnus hit the glass hard, Camille looked up, her eyes shining with a smile. “Won what Camille? Giving me Alec for—forever—and earning yourself a one-way ticket into the Silent City? Congratulations, you are your own downfall.”

She stilled, eyeing him to see his resolve, as Magnus turned away and would never look at her again. They left her alone for the Silent Brothers to collect, Jem had said he would personally make sure she made it there. Tessa had offered her support too.

The room stilled, on a caught breath waiting for Alec to mention what had yet been unsaid, but all he said was, “Did you follow the lead?”

Jace looked at Alec confused, he shut his eyes a moment too long, Alec noticed his frustrated pulse, a flicker of irritation. “No.”

“You should follow it.” Alec turned to the others, his eyes frantically scanning their faces, necks and wrists. The stain on Max’s collar, the rip on Isabelle’s jeans. A crease in Clary’s forehead that only deepened as the unmentionable dragged on. Jace’s hand hovering over his parabatai rune, Alec touched his, it felt cold. “I’m going back to Magnus’ to shower and change. I’ll meet you at the alley.”

He walked away, halfway up the stairs that he painstakingly took as slow as his new speed would let him, he heard Magnus’ voice. “Give him space,” it snapped.

-

“Now what?” Alec and Magnus sat in the park, the light of the sun irritating his skin. His Nephilim blood didn’t defeat the _disease_ , but it gave him the Daylighter ability, so he didn’t have to lose much. The grass was greener, it looked thicker, the mud a deep wet brown and the surface moved with a thousand unseen creatures. The trees looked dry, cracking in the sun, the leaves see-through.

“What do you mean?”

“For us? Now what?” Alec was afraid things were most certainly different for them—yet again. Perhaps even, impossible different.

Magnus smiled the first real smile he had seen since the morning he ruined their lives. “Now we do exactly what we were going to do.” Alec scrunched his brows at him, rubbing some life into his skin. Magnus held his hands still, “We try our best at keeping our hands to ourselves—oops,” he squeezed Alec’s hands. “Be mature and start over. It’ll no doubt last a week before we move back in and don’t leave each other alone then we just live our life together.”

“Forever?” Alec whispered, still unsure of the future that now panned out before him. Avoiding it while at the same time the realisation of immortality bloomed in him. But as it bloomed it shrivelled, he had no understanding of it, no time to prepare for it, no _choice_ in it. It flourished when he looked at Magnus but decayed when he thought of his family.

Magnus smiled a little sorrowful, knowing what Alec had yet to come, but he kissed his cheek because he would be there. “Forever.”

It was like a final toll. Alec dragged in a breath, it chilled his hollow chest. He looked to the distance, could see it all. He closed his eyes and heard it all. The sounds of the city defending, the fluid movement of Magnus’ warmblood enticing him to a confusing lust, the wind carrying the smell of millions of lives. He sobbed. At least, he tried to, his shoulders heaved as his hands covered his mouth and nose to suffocate himself. Alec leant forward to put his head between his knees, his eyes bone dry though he knew he should be crying. He hadn’t wanted this, this wasn’t the answer to their problems, to his problem, this was a forced conclusion. Alec desperately tried not to think of forever, because it wasn’t romantic anymore, it was the cold, harsh, dead reality. He thought of Magnus and Magnus’ reluctances to even talk of giving him what Camille had assaulted him with. Yes, she had won, because Alec didn’t feel like Alec any more. Alec was dead. 

Magnus’ hand gently held his head, he had moved to crouch in front of him, his forehead on Alec’s crown. He was whispering something, it sounded like a plan, it seemed like step one in a long battle. It sounded reassuring but unsure. "Aku cinta kamu," Alec’s heard but could not reply before his vision went black.

-

 **TO BE CONTINUED** in _"Murders In Manhattan"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much for reading, commenting and leaving kudos on this fic (and others)! I am sorry that Mortality has left a lot of questions with only one concrete answer—Magnus and Alec are through sickness and health, till (not) death do us part. About three chapters into posting, I decided to run with the self-indulgent idea of writing a Vampire fic. So, I began planning to answer those questions: who is the Gang that Jace used to get Alec home? Are they really serious or only a mundane problem? What was Camille’s motive? How will Alec deal with immortality that he never had the chance to consider? How will Magnus? Etc-
> 
> I am writing the fic now—“Murders In Manhattan”—it is a fic written because I love Vampire’s and can’t bare Malec being apart. I hope that others would like that too, and I hope that some of you will return to read it!
> 
> I am seven chapters in, to a planned sixteen(?) which still needs completing and beta reading. Since it’s very self-indulgent, I have the full intention of writing it whenever I have free time. I am enjoying exploring the reality of being a Vampire and the truth about the Gang, so it should be finished in a month or two. Perhaps posting will begin over Christmas (beta reading permitted).
> 
> Ashleigh.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone that has left kudos, a comment or simply just read!
> 
> Tumblr (Mixed Obsessions) - AutumnQuest  
> Twitter (Gaming & Stuff) - AshleighTookey  
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